


Short Shorts

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 14:46:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1608959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry finds himself in a spot of bother at the gym.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Short Shorts

**Title:** Short Shorts  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Word Count:** ~700  
 **Summary:** Harry finds himself in a spot of bother at the gym.  
 **A/N:** Originally written for [](http://olimakiella.livejournal.com/profile)[**olimakiella**](http://olimakiella.livejournal.com/) for her birthday. I promised at the time to add to this, and I repeat that here now! Sorry! Watch this space ♥

Harry couldn't concentrate. He simply couldn't keep his mind on his workout with the sight that presented itself in front of him. Harry had been a member of the gym for months; he enjoyed it. It was Muggle, so there were no interruptions. No one cared who he was or what he'd done; Harry was simply left alone to swim or workout as he wished. He had joined the gym for something to keep him occupied after months of wondering what to do with his life. He'd never looked back; Harry was happier—and healthier—than he'd ever been.

All that changed the instant Harry had settled himself on his favourite exercise bike that morning. He always chose the same bike due to the fact that it overlooked the squash courts; the sight of men running about getting sweaty seemed to spur him on to work faster. Or now, as Harry discovered, stopped him from cycling altogether.

Harry had discovered his preference for men after the war. When he finally _stopped_ and thought about what he wanted, he realised that he never had been fully satisfied with women. Well, that and, after watching a film marathon with Ron and Hermione, his obsession with Orlando Bloom.

Orlando Bloom himself could have walked into the gym and stood next to him, and Harry wouldn't have noticed. He was too entranced by the sight in front of him. The most gorgeous man—Harry assumed, as he couldn't actually see his face—was in the squash court, alone, hitting the ball against the wall with such force that Harry could almost _feel_ the vibrations. The mystery man was also wearing the shortest shorts Harry had ever seen being worn in public.

Harry, he'd be the first to admit, was an arse man. Yes, he liked the rest of the man as well, of course. But when Harry fantasised, he was almost always caressing the nicest, firmest arse he could imagine. And that very arse was now wiggling right in front of his face. It was as if his dreams had come true.

Finding himself unable to sit astride the bike any longer, Harry climbed off and sat down on the bench, grateful that he'd worn his baggy jogging bottoms for once. Forcing himself to think about Dumbledore in the bath soon had him able to stand up without embarrassing himself.

Harry walked over to the window overlooking the squash court and pondered what to do next. The man was obviously winding down his practice; his ball-hitting had slowed and he wasn't running around as much. Harry wanted to go to him; he didn't know why, he just did. It had been a long time since he'd been on a date, and Harry just wanted some company for a change. Yes, his friends were always there for him, but they had lives and partners and children, and didn't need Harry hanging around all the time.

_The Prophet_ followed his every move, so dating in the wizarding world was out of the question. It was one of the reasons for Harry to spend so much time with Muggles. Making a snap decision—Hermione would be proud, Harry thought—Harry grabbed his bag and made his way downstairs to the squash court.

Harry's heart was racing. Wondering what the fuck he was doing, he nearly turned and left several times. He was stood outside the door and trying his best to talk himself out of knocking on it. _What if he's not gay? What if he says no? What if he doesn't like the look of me? What if I don't like the look of him?_

Deciding that he was just being stupid—he was only going to ask the man if he fancied a cup of coffee, for fuck's sake—Harry raised his hand to knock on the door. Before his fist could connect with the wood, the door swung open. Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor.

“Malfoy?!”


End file.
